


Bloodroot

by 3RatMoon



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Anal Sex, Blood, M/M, somewhat canon compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:20:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25938799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/3RatMoon/pseuds/3RatMoon
Summary: Hubert knew that They had done something to Ferdinand.
Relationships: Ferdinand von Aegir/Hubert von Vestra
Comments: 5
Kudos: 122





	Bloodroot

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to everyone who encouraged these AU thoughts and listened while I groaned about this fic taking forever (ie, a reasonable amount of time) to write.
> 
> CW for blood ofc, and a sort of fantasy inebriation involved with feeding

Hubert knew that They had done something to Ferdinand. 

He had been taught in the Von Vestra tradition to be knowledgeable on all the major Houses of the Empire, and he knew that Ferdinand von Aegir, the only son of the Prime Minister, was not born with a crest. But, on the training grounds of Garreg Mach, Hubert had seen the distinct shape of the Crest of Cichol flash in front of the young noble as he charged his opponent. Knowing as he did about Lady Edelgard’s encounters with Them, the connection was easy enough to make. The only question was how Ferdinand seemed totally unchanged by the experience, from his bright orange hair to his insufferable personality.

It was roughly three months into their study at the Officer’s Academy in Garreg Mach that Hubert found out that Ferdinand was going to Abyss. Considering the young man’s obsession with nobility and all the things it entailed, the knowledge gave Hubert some measure of satisfaction. However, he did not feel the need to investigate further. It was only when Hubert noticed that the visits had a very specific pattern— Saturday evening every two weeks precisely— that he grew curious enough.

It was easy work to go down to Garreg Mach’s underground unnoticed, and easier still to set up a scrying spell in one of the numerous tunnels close enough to the door Ferdinand disappeared into. There, in the disc of darkness in Hubert’s hands, he saw Ferdinand sitting next to a young lady on a bed. The enclosed space was small, with just a partition separating it from the rest of the room. The lady wasn’t a high enough rank yet to have her own room.

Hubert scoffed quietly. If he had gone through all this trouble (as minor as it was) just to find out that the son of the Prime Minister was merely visiting ladies of the night with his strange punctuality, he’d need to find some outlet for his frustration. Perhaps he could confront Ferdinand on the way out of Abyss, without revealing that he knew what Ferdinand was doing, just to give him a bit of a fright. That could do.

Just as Hubert was starting to put a plan together, however, things took a turn for the more interesting. At the point when a more amorous connection would be made, the young lady simply drew up her sleeve, baring her wrist. Ferdinand took a small knife from his pocket, and with the same careful movement Hubert had seen countless times when his father instructed him in bloodletting, opened her vein. Then, before scarcely a drop of blood had escaped, Ferdinand von Aegir sealed his lips over the wound.

Hubert watched in fascination as Ferdinand, yes, _drank human blood_ , and directly from the body at that. He was there for several minutes, head bowed, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Tremors that Hubert hadn’t noticed before stilled. When finally Ferdinand pulled back, casting a bit of faith magic to heal the cut, Hubert saw that he looked more flushed and well-rested. Ferdinand turned to the young woman and gave a little bow before excusing himself and the lady just watched him go, eyes glazed over and mouth slightly open. That was when Hubert decided he had seen enough and dispelled his magic, leaving Abyss the way he had come.

Hubert no longer felt the need to terrorize Ferdinand on his way back to his dorm. No, the information he had acquired was more than satisfactory to him.

Of course, he told Edelgard. As Hubert continued to do work with her, building the foundation for her plan to confront the Church of Seiros, he was starting to learn the value of keeping his own counsel. However, he could not help but want to share that bit of information.

“If your timeline is correct, his crest was implanted significantly after mine, when the process was more developed.” Edelgard said after Hubert told her what he knew. She gave a small smile. “Is it strange to gain some satisfaction from the knowledge that he is not entirely untouched by it?”

“Certainly not, Lady Edelgard,” Hubert replied. He had heard the quiet envy in her voice when they spoke of Ferdinand. He liked her smile better.

Ultimately, the knowledge of Ferdinand’s condition fell by the wayside as Edelgard’s plans continued to develop. It was only important if he needed to be manipulated, and for the time being, the two of them only had eyes on his father, and they were not interested in anything he had to offer. In the end, Ferdinand even proved to be loyal to Edelgard and Empire both, taking his house’s demotion with grace. Safe to say, blackmail was not in his future as Hubert saw it.

Hubert actually found that he possibly enjoyed Ferdinand’s company, though he would never say such a thing to the man’s face. They met regularly over tea and coffee and discussed the future of Fodlan together. Hubert became familiar with Ferdinand’s minute expressions, not in simply the intellectual reading of an enemy’s tells, but in an almost intuitive manner comparable only to how he knew Lady Edelgard. Because of that understanding, he sensed the change in the air one day, when he reached forward and grasped a few of Ferdinand’s hairs.

“Oh my, going grey already?” he asked in the sneer of a tone he enjoyed employing upon him. It was entertaining to bother him, enough for Hubert to act against his own preferences to stand at a distance and keep his hands to himself. Ferdinand huffed and batted his hand away, but there was a bare second before where he seemed to freeze completely.

“As if you don’t have a few grey hairs of your own,” Ferdinand returned, irritated.

Conversation then diverted into a back and forth of who was more rightfully stressed while also being perfectly capable of handling said stress. It was childish nonsense, Hubert knew, but Lady Edelgard was always telling him that he needed to have fun more. Perhaps the verbal sniping he engaged in with Ferdinand served some sort of purpose.

Hubert would later realize that those minor changes in Ferdinand’s behavior were his first clue that something was amiss.

Hubert’s second clue came with a skirmish at the border of Faerghus. Ferdinand fought noticeably below his standard, and he was quiet when they met up after the battle, staring at the ground with an unfocused gaze.

“Why, I don’t believe I have gone so long in your presence without you interrupting me,” Hubert commented, a tactical prodding of the bear.

Instead of rising to the bait, Ferdinand simply glowered and said, “If you are quite done, I would like to go back to camp and get all of this Goddess-damned blood off of me.”

Hubert let him go, but he found himself uneasy after the exchange. He had not known Ferdinand to be bothered by blood. Certainly, if he was, it would have become apparent very early on, fighting as he did on the front lines. Ultimately, Hubert had to leave the issue be to attend to his myriad of other duties, but the thought remained in the back of his mind.

Over the weeks following, Ferdinand only acted more unlike himself. He stopped going on his morning rides. He was absent at meal times. He was listless at the war table, sometimes grimacing as if it pained him to focus.

When Ferdinand missed their usual tea and coffee meet, then declined a second invitation, Hubert had enough. After some rapid rescheduling of the rest of his day, he got up from his desk and went to see Ferdinand.

The man lived in an apartment in downtown Enbarr, a much more modest place than the townhouses the nobles once occupied. He was offered a room in the Imperial Palace, but Ferdinand refused, on the point that he wanted to follow Edelgard’s wishes that the Palace continue to be slowly emptied as the last of the nobility, including her, were phased out. It made it more difficult to reach him on short notice, but Hubert was not one to be stopped by mere inconveniences.

Upon reaching the apartment door, he knocked briskly.

No answer.

He knocked again. “Ferdinand!” he called.

Faintly, he could hear the sound of movement, but Ferdinand did not answer.

“Ferdinand, you know I can Warp directly into your room, should I wish it,” Hubert said. “Keep your dignity and open the door.”

There was a shuffling, and then a click as the door unlocked.

The man on the other side of the door looked leagues away from the one Hubert would call Ferdinand von Aegir. He looked haggard, half-dressed with his shirt untucked and ascot hanging limply around his neck. His hair was frizzy and unkempt as if run roughly through one’s fingers. Strands of it hung in his face as he squinted out into the dim hall as if it were dazzling sunlight.

“What do you want?” this strange version of Ferdinand asked.

Hubert did not ask permission before stepping into the room and closing the door.

“Clearly, you are too stubborn to say when something is wrong, so I am here to wring it out of you,” Hubert said. “You haven’t kept appointments, you haven’t been training, and when we _do_ see you, you always have your head covered—”

As he said it, Hubert’s eyes went to Ferdinand again. He hadn’t seen it in the hall, but when Ferdinand turned his head, the candlelight in the room caught in his hair, glinting off several bright streaks of white.

Abruptly, all the pieces Hubert had been holding clicked together.

“You haven’t been drinking any blood,” he said.

Ferdinand’s eyes went wide. “How did you know I—”

Hubert waved a hand. “I followed you on one of your trips to Abyss when we were still in the Academy. It’s not important. How long have you been going without?”

Ferdinand grimaced. “About four months.”

“Ferdinand! You were going every two weeks!” Hubert hissed.

Ferdinand threw up his hands in aggravation. “My last host moved away when the War started! And I can’t… I can’t _afford_ the courtesans I went to before, the ones I know I can trust not to start spreading rumors.”

Ferdinand looked up at Hubert desperately. “Could you imagine what would happen to morale if it got out that the Emperor’s First General is… is a blood-sucking _monster?”_

Hubert paused, affected by the pain on Ferdinand’s face. But then, he shook his head. “Flames, Ferdinand, you could have asked for a _loan,_ could have asked me for a contact! This is just nonsense!”

“And what, I would just tell you and Her Majesty why I needed these things?” Ferdinand replied, before adding bitterly, “Though I guess it doesn’t matter, considering.”

Hubert scoffed. Here, Ferdinand was practically falling apart at the seams, and yet he still was too stubborn to see the solutions presented to him.

With the flick of his wrist, a hidden knife appeared in Hubert’s hand. If Ferdinand would not accept what he suggested, he would simply have to make an offer he could not refuse.

Ferdinand stood up, suddenly alert as he spotted the glint of steel in Hubert’s hand. “What, Hubert—”

Before he could finish his sentence, Hubert turned the knife blade down and opened a cut in his arm. He bit down a grunt of pain. He had enough practice to know how not to hit any essential nerves or tendons. The pain was merely a distraction, a warning of danger Hubert had already conquered.

Ferdinand was staring at him, eyes wide.

“What are you doing?” he asked. He sounded furious and terrified.

“Who better to be your host than me?” Hubert said, holding out his arm. Blood began to drip over his skin and onto the floor.

Ferdinand tried to turn away, his hand over his mouth, but his eyes were still fixed on the cut. He was shaking.

“No, Hubert, you don’t understand,” he rasped. “Things have been happening to me since I was cut off. If I feed from you, I don’t— I don’t know if I can stop!”

“You think me incapable of defending myself?” Hubert snarled. “Your condition has truly sullied your—”

Hubert’s back hit the wall hard. Ferdinand was nearly nose to nose with him, teeth bared, chest heaving. There was something different in his eyes, like the look he got in the middle of battle. His teeth looked sharp.

Hubert immediately saw his error. For so long, he had seen Ferdinand as friend, and he had stopped thinking about what Ferdinand would be as enemy. A moment of inconsideration and now the man had him pinned with his significant bulk. Hubert allowed himself to be frustrated, then let it go in favor of focusing on the present. He knew several ways to get out of Ferdinand’s grip, but those were for if his first plan didn’t work. 

Watching carefully, Hubert turned his arm so that the still-bleeding cut faced out. Ferdinand’s eyes went to the wound, then away, then back. Hubert could feel him shaking as he resisted.

“Go on,” Hubert said, almost impatiently.

Ferdinand was still for a moment more, but then with a sigh, he leaned forward and put his mouth to the cut.

At first, Hubert felt only a vague discomfort. Then slowly, a strange warmth spread up his arm and to the rest of his body. His mind grew fuzzy, but not in a way that suggested too much blood loss, so he remained still but vigilant, watching for any sign that he would need Ferdinand to stop.

Ferdinand clearly tried to control himself, but his hands were a vice grip on Hubert’s wrists. He grunted as he drank, like a man dying of thirst when he at last received water. It was distasteful, and yet Hubert’s body stirred at the sound. Hubert felt vaguely revolted. Was he reacting to the feeding somehow? It didn’t make sense. He felt almost drunk, but it wasn’t blood loss, he _knew_ what blood loss felt like.

Hubert stood in silence and counted the minutes. It was nearly twenty before he started to feel lightheaded. Ferdinand hadn’t detached from his arm, his tongue methodically running over the wound to keep it from closing, but he had stopped shaking and was no longer making those awful sounds.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said. His voice came out more quiet than he intended.

Ferdinand did not move.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said, louder this time. “Remove yourself or I shall.”

There was a pause in which Hubert reconsidered his options, but then Ferdinand let go with a gasp, stumbling backwards into the table that took up the majority of his small living space. Ferdinand stood there, sprawled back against one of the chairs, his red mouth open as he fought to catch his breath. Hubert winced as the cut was exposed to the air again, and he looked to see it bleeding sluggishly down his arm again.

Ferdinand righted himself, steps swaying a little as he approached Hubert again. “Apologies, let me…” he slurred, reaching a hand out.

Hubert resisted the urge to pull away and felt the distinct tingling of faith magic mending the wound. After, Ferdinand stepped back, but Hubert saw him eyeing the remaining streaks of blood.

Hubert sighed and held up his arm again. “You might as well,” he said.

Shoulders sagging, Ferdinand came forward again.

It must have had something to do with the strange state Hubert was in, but he did not find the touch of Ferdinand’s tongue to his skin so off-putting the second time. Ferdinand was meticulous, even gentle in the pursuit of the last drops of his blood. Hubert watched, feeling almost peaceful, the warmth in his body pulsing softly with the beat of his heart.

Hubert did not realize he was drawing Ferdinand closer until they brushed up against one another, and two things abruptly became clear to Hubert. First, he was hard. Second, so was Ferdinand.

The other man must have felt it as well, because he quickly put distance between them. He ran a hand through his hair, only minimally taming it, and cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Apologies,” he said. “That, er, can be a common side-effect, unfortunately.”

“And this strange stupor you’ve put me in?” Hubert asked, irritated. He did not like to drink or smoke, as being so indisposed was always a liability, regardless of the circumstances, and this was no exception. It didn’t help that this was happening in the presence of Ferdinand von Aegir, King of Poise.

Ferdinand looked away, a flush darkening his cheeks. “One and the same,” he said. “Again, I apologize. I should have warned you, but I…”

“You were a bit distracted, I know,” Hubert sighed. He was not about to go along with Ferdinand’s self-flagellation. “I trust you will come to me before you are in quite such a desperate state next time, hm?”

Ferdinand looked up, wary. “Next time? You mean it, after all this?”

Hubert scoffed. “Yes, I mean it. Now, I am going to sit down for a bit. Do you have anything to eat?”

Ferdinand jumped up immediately. “Of course! Please, sit down at the table, I have some scones, and oh, I have some coffee I can brew as well…”

Off Ferdinand went into his tiny kitchenette, talking aloud and gesturing as he went. Already, he was acting like himself again. Hubert let him go and pulled out a chair at the table to sit in.

The coffee wasn’t as good as the blend he kept at the Palace, and the scones were stale, but the conversation was the best it had been in some time. Hubert found that he was relieved. Ferdinand was back to normal, and all Hubert had to do was pencil in an extra twenty minutes every two weeks into their coffee and tea dates.

Of course, things couldn’t remain so simple.

The side-effects of the feedings remained, first of all, which was bothersome. Linhardt would have a field day speculating on how Ferdinand’s implanted crest came into play with that, Hubert was sure, though he would rather strangle himself than give him such details. Ferdinand was a perfect gentleman about it, of course, which almost irritated Hubert further, even whilst in the thrall of the afterglow.

“I understand if you need to step away for a moment,” Ferdinand said, either the third or fourth time they had done this.

Hubert turned his head. (They had been facing away from each other as they each adjusted themselves.) “Pardon me?” he asked.

Ferdinand made a vague gesture, somehow awkward and elegant at the same time. “If you need to… I mean… I can wait, if need be, is what I mean.”

Hubert arched an eyebrow. “Do _you_ need to?”

“No! No, not at all!” Ferdinand spluttered, going quite red in the face.

Hubert crossed his arms. “Honestly, Ferdinand. I’d rather bed you myself than have us slink off into separate rooms to spill into our fists in shame.”

If possible, Ferdinand went redder. “I… well…”

Hubert watched with some satisfaction as Ferdinand floundered. Hubert himself was not one to be so crass, but he considered employing such tactics again just to see the man so off-kilter. Neither of them were blushing virgins, and they both knew it, but it didn’t seem to stop Ferdinand from looking the part.

After a couple moments, Ferdinand took a deep breath and straightened his back, chin up. “If that is what you want, I would not be opposed,” he said, crisply.

That was _not_ a response Hubert was expecting. He uncrossed his arms.

“Truly?” he asked.

“Yes!” Ferdinand shouted, his composure crumbling as swiftly as it had been constructed. “Don’t make me say it again, you horrible man!”

Ferdinand jabbed an irate finger in Hubert’s direction, and Hubert held his hands up in mock surrender.

“The offer still stands,” he said patiently.

Hubert was speaking the truth. He couldn’t deny that Ferdinand was attractive to him, despite his frustrating demeanor. And, well, he was pent-up and aroused, especially with the nonsense that feeding did to him. He suspected that both of them could do with a bit of a release.

Ferdinand watched him for a moment, then, squaring his shoulders, walked the two steps separating them. They looked at each other, chests nearly touching, not a word exchanged between them.

“Well then,” Ferdinand said eventually. “Unless you say something, I’m going to kiss you, now.”

Hubert scoffed and leaned in the rest of the way himself.

It was over fairly quickly after that. Hubert was almost surprised. He took Ferdinand for more of a romantic, someone who would kiss and touch for a while before the act itself, whispering sweet nothings all the while.

Instead, Ferdinand crowded Hubert against the wall, not even bothering to take him to Hubert's own bedroom, a scant few paces away. Ferdinand kissed Hubert hungrily, lips and tongue and teeth, and Hubert could scarcely keep up. 

The warm afterglow was suddenly boiling hot. Hubert pulled Ferdinand flush against him, biting his lip. Ferdinand moaned into his mouth and set about undoing Hubert's clothing as quickly as he could manage while continuing to kiss him.

Shortly after that, they were coming into each other's hands, gasping curses into each other's skin where shirts were unbuttoned and pulled aside. The whole thing had been hot and rushed and strangely thrilling. It was very different from Hubert's clinical explorations with the stable boy as a teenager, and Hubert undoubtedly liked it better.

Ferdinand still had his head on Hubert's shoulder, catching his breath. From that angle, Hubert had a close view of the man's hair, brilliant copper without a hint of white. Tentatively, Hubert reached out a hand and ran his fingers through it. Ferdinand didn't react. For a moment, they stood there, Hubert leaning against the wall and Ferdinand against Hubert, Hubert stroking Ferdinand's hair.

Then, with a sigh, Ferdinand stepped back, stretched, and fetched a handkerchief from his pocket.

"Well!" he said, chipper. "If I may hazard a guess, we should still have time for tea and coffee. What do you think?"

Every time after that went the same. Ferdinand fed from Hubert, they fucked while the afterglow was still strong, and then they continued their conversations on public education and how to best organize a library over their preferred drinks. It was a relationship far from what Hubert could have ever imagined back at the Academy.

One time, Ferdinand suggested doing it while he was feeding.

"You have noticed it, haven't you? That things seem more… amplified, during," he said.

Hubert raised an eyebrow. "I suppose." He had guessed that it was simply the adrenaline of perceived danger, but Ferdinand seemed to be suggesting something else.

"I just thought it might be fun," Ferdinand added, sounding put out.

Hubert snorted. "Bedding your meals has brought out your more perverse sensibilities."

Ferdinand must have learned a tell on Hubert, or else gotten more of his usual boldness back in the realm of his condition and what they had been doing together, because instead of retreating to a more respectable distance, he stepped closer, until their chests were touching. There was a fire in his eyes and a wicked curve to his smile that Hubert found he very much liked.

"Do you want to or not?" Ferdinand asked, low and smooth.

Hubert grinned at Ferdinand, showing his teeth. "Do your worst, Von Aegir."

Then, Ferdinand shoved him onto the bed.

Hubert pondered on the nature of their fucking, sometimes. Even the words he used in his mind had significance. It was not merely sex, and he certainly would not call it lovemaking. It was tumbling, or more often, fucking.

They grappled each other on the bed like they were at the training grounds back at Garreg Mach, first Ferdinand on top, then Hubert, then Ferdinand again. Hubert didn't hold back, using his long limbs as leverage against Ferdinand's superior strength. Hubert would always lose in the end, but he enjoyed making Ferdinand sweat. Clearly, Ferdinand enjoyed it as well.

Somewhere in their game, they lost their clothes. Hubert scraped his nails up the broad expanse of Ferdinand's back as the man pulled him in for another bruising kiss. Hubert tried to use the momentary distraction to flip them again, but Ferdinand caught him and pinned him with his elbows and knees.

"If you wanted to be on top, you only had to ask," Ferdinand said sweetly, though his grin was dangerous.

Hubert squirmed in Ferdinand's grip. "Just do it, already," he ground out.

Ferdinand hummed. "Not just yet. I want to warm you up a little, first."

"What on _Earth_ were we doing before, then," Hubert grumbled, before biting back a gasp as Ferdinand's fingers closed around his cock.

Ferdinand stroked Hubert light and easy while Hubert squirmed, seeking out more stimulation. He could feel Ferdinand smiling into their kisses, and he bit the other man's lip out of spite. Ferdinand just laughed.

Before Hubert got too impatient, though, Ferdinand finally went and fetched his knife from the pocket of his discarded vest. Hubert hissed at the pain of the cut, but it had become almost as much a part of the game as everything else. Pain thrilled him in a way, no matter which end of the blade he was on. Ferdinand leaned down and put his mouth over his arm, and Hubert shuddered as the glow overtook him.

Ferdinand was right to call it an amplification. Hubert felt everything twelvefold, or like when two mirrors turned to face each other. He thought he heard Ferdinand whispering "You look stunning like this," but then he looked and saw the man still drinking, eyes closed in focus as he held Hubert's arm in one hand and Hubert's cock in the other.

Flames, his cock felt harder than it had ever been in his life. It throbbed in Ferdinand's hand as the sensations overwhelmed him. He needed more, needed inside of Ferdinand, or Ferdinand inside of him, it didn't matter.

"Maybe next time, darling."

Hubert's eyes opened, and he saw Ferdinand smile a crimson smile before dipping back down to drink. Even as he did, his bright amber eyes stayed trained on Hubert, watching him with hunger and delight.

Next time… Hubert's mind went wild with the possibilities. Before he even realized it, he was coming with a barely restrained shout, spilling over his stomach. Then, he watched in a haze as Ferdinand gripped his own cock with his still-soiled hand and stroked himself hard and fast. Ferdinand's gaze never strayed from Hubert's face until the moment he came, and Hubert watched his eyes unfocus before his head dropped to Hubert's chest, his cries muffled by his skin.

For a while, they laid on top of each other like that. Ferdinand fumbled for Hubert's arm, healing the cut, then rolled off Hubert's chest to lay beside him. His laugh was soft, like a ray of sun through the leaves of a tree. Hubert was stroking his hair again, he realized, and withdrew his hand.

"You can keep doing that," Ferdinand said. "If you want."

Hubert paused, but then slowly, he reached out his hand and carded his fingers through Ferdinand's hair. Ferdinand sighed and closed his eyes. He looked beautiful and perfectly at peace, a small smile on his face. Only the barest smudge on his lower lip gave any hint to the depraved things they had been doing only moments before. Hubert felt a strange, kind of possessive pride about it. For all that Ferdinand touted himself as an open book, Hubert knew the kind of man he was, truly. Hubert knew Ferdinand in ways that no one else did.

Hubert should have known to be more cautious with those feelings.

Less than a week after their last encounter, Edelgard called for the Black Eagles Strike Force to make the trip back to Garreg Mach. Edelgard found her Teacher there, still alive after five years and what had appeared to be a fatal fall, and the monastery became the new headquarters for the Strike Force.

Hubert had not considered what that would mean for his relationship with Ferdinand until their first meeting in the gazebo together.

"So," Ferdinand had said, carefully placing his teacup back on its saucer. "I visited the Abyss."

Immediately, Hubert was on alert. He already had a few guesses as to what Ferdinand was hinting at. The foremost contender… "Checking on your former donor, I presume?"

Ferdinand nodded. "She still lives and works in Abyss. She seems to have acquired more status in her house, as well."

Hubert did not respond. Ferdinand was pretending like this was simply small talk, as he sometimes did when he needed to work himself up to a more difficult statement. Hubert would not indulge him.

Ferdinand glanced at him, then away. "So, you no longer need to do that for me, if you don't want to."

There it was. "Certainly not, if you have a more desirable candidate." Hubert snapped.

Ferdinand frowned. "That is not what—"

"Ah, but the implications are quite strong," Hubert returned, waving a hand dismissively. "Go on, feed off something prettier, now that you can afford to again. Perhaps you can bed her as well and get your money's worth."

Ferdinand stood up, the cups clattering on the table. "Hubert, that is uncalled for!"

"Is it?" Hubert hissed. "Don't try to pretend that what we were doing was anything other than _convenience_."

Ferdinand was silent for a moment, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Is that what you think?" he asked quietly.

"You'll have to speak up in order for me to answer you," Hubert said snidely.

Ferdinand took a deep breath. "I believe we are done here," he said, his voice even and absolutely brimming with rage. "Good afternoon."

And with that, Ferdinand walked across the gardens and disappeared behind the walkway walls.

The two of them did not talk much for the following month. It was frustrating for the first few days, when Ferdinand would, in the most petty manner possible, ignore Hubert when he spoke at the war table and only address Lady Edelgard. After, though, Ferdinand’s anger seemed to dissipate enough to not interfere with their work, so Hubert did not find it fit to complain about their distance otherwise. Hubert did not pursue Ferdinand about their personal meetings— doing so would mean that Ferdinand’s silent treatment had affected him, when merely Hubert did not like having the gap in his schedule.

It was some weeks later that Hubert learned that he was no longer the only one being avoided.

“H-Hey, Hubert?” Bernadetta approached him one day. “Have you seen Ferdinand lately? We were supposed to talk about the mission Edelgard had planned for our battalions some more, but he never showed up…”

Hubert turned to Bernadetta. It was unlike her to go asking around for help, much less asking Hubert. “Hm. Did you knock on his door?” he asked.

“Yes!” said Bernadetta. “...Kind of! I knocked very very quietly, because I didn’t want to disturb him if he was sick, or sleeping, or sleeping because he was sick!

Hubert sighed. “I will go speak with him.”

After Bernadetta begged Hubert not to be too cross with Ferdinand, especially if he was truly sick, she quickly dismissed herself, leaving Hubert to his thoughts. The last time Ferdinand had started to slip up on his duties was when he wasn’t feeding, but there was no reason why he wouldn’t be, now. He mulled it over, his boots clicking with authority on the stone pathways of the monastery.

Hubert would have noticed already if Ferdinand was thinking of defecting from the Empire. A move so obvious as to get the attention of Bernadetta would be a very late stage action, or else Ferdinand was even less clever than he seemed. Still, as Hubert went over other possibilities, he found his fists clenching, as if for want of a dagger in them. He could not dismiss the possibility that Ferdinand would betray them. He would go to the man’s room first, but if necessary, he would do a proper investigation.

The dormity hall was quiet when Hubert entered. His firm kock on Ferdinand’s door was booming by comparison, echoing off the walls. At first there was no response, but then a quiet voice from the other side of the door called out.

“Hello?”

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said.

Another pause, then Ferdinand replied, “Please leave me alone.” He sounded like he had swallowed gravel.

“Are you hungover?” Hubert asked, scandalized.

“What? No!” Ferdinand said, still rough but with more energy. “Please, Hubert, just leave me be!”

Ferdinand was telling the truth. He sounded awful, but there was not the tone of misery common to feeling the effects of too much drink. Instead, he sounded more urgent. Afraid.

“I would, but you missed your appointment with Bernadetta, and she was asking about you,” Hubert said automatically, trying to parse what Ferdinand could be afraid of.

“Hubert, please—”

Ferdinand’s voice sounded garbled, then was followed by what Hubert could only call a _growl._

Hubert’s heart leapt into his throat. “Ferdinand!”

A thought, and Hubert was inside Ferdinand’s room. There, he saw the man crouched near his bed like a cornered animal, and his face…

Hubert was more well-versed than most in the nature of Fell Beasts, but he had never seen a partial transformation before. What he could see of Ferdinand’s face through the mess of his hair was misshapen and grotesque, jutting out like the beginning of a muzzle. He barred many very sharp-looking teeth at Hubert, and the growl he emitted reverberated through the floor.

Hubert thought, ah.

Then, he was pinned to the floor, those very sharp teeth poised quite close to his face. Hubert’s instincts kicked in at that point, and he twisted out of Ferdinand’s (alarmingly strong) grip and dug his fingers into a couple pressure points, disrupting him long enough to draw a binding spell. Ferdinand snarled and thrashed, saliva dripping from his maw.

“Ferdinand.” Hubert said, though he had no idea how much of the man’s logical brain was left.

With the beastly man tied down, Hubert was able to see details about him that he hadn’t seen at first. His nails had become claw-like, knuckles large and knobbly. His pupils were so large as to occupy most of the space of his iris. And, most notably, there gleamed several streaks of white at the roots of his hair, where a henna dye had grown out.

“Ferdinand, you fool,” Hubert said aloud.

Was this what Ferdinand meant before, the first time that he fed from Hubert, when he said that things had been happening to him? Did that mean his state was reversible?

“You fool,” Hubert said again, and pulled a dagger from his boot.

The moment Hubert drew blood, Ferdinand grew quiet, scenting the air with loud whuffs. When Hubert brought his bleeding arm closer, he lunged with his head, but Hubert had carefully kept himself out of reach. Ferdinand looked at Hubert, baring his teeth briefly in frustration, but then as Hubert remained still, slowly unfurled his tongue from his mouth and reached to lap at the cut. 

Hubert stayed there and watched as Ferdinand licked away the blood from his arm, over and over. 

It took a long time, longer than a routine feeding, but Hubert remained vigilant. Eventually, he saw Ferdinand’s face draw back into itself and regain its previous shape, and the man Hubert knew well was once again kneeling before him, head hanging low over Hubert’s arm.

“Ferdinand,” Hubert said. “You fool.”

Ferdinand looked away. “I know.”

Hubert undid the binding spell and helped Ferdinand to sit on his bed.

“The only thing I don’t understand,” Hubert said, “is why. Why go through everything involved with denying yourself— go through _that?_ Was it truly just to spite me?”

Ferdinand was quiet for a long moment, then sighed. “I didn’t want to, with anyone else.

Hubert opened his mouth. Closed it.

Ferdinand reached out to Hubert, touching his wounded arm and healing the cut, though it was shallow and had already stopped bleeding.

“It was different with you, not just because of the…”

“Tumbling?” Hubert offered.

Ferdinand chuckled weakly. “Yes.”

He ran a hand through his hair in a vain attempt to tame it. Several strands fell back in his face.

“I had been meaning to tell you, but I didn’t know how,” he said. A sigh. “I suppose now is as good a time as any.”

Ferdinand pinned Hubert with his amber gaze, now totally serious. Hubert felt his heartbeat pick up, as if he was again facing the beastly form of the man.

“I have been suspecting something about us for some time, and then I fed from you, even bedded you… It made things undeniable to me. I… I want you, Hubert, Not just for tea and coffee, not just in my bed. I want you by my side. I adore you.”

In the silence that followed, Hubert realized he had been holding his breath. He let it out in a whoosh.

“Ferdinand…” he said.

His mind was reeling. When had this happened? When had his desire turned from Ferdinand’s downfall to… to this? To desperately wanting a confession just like the one Ferdinand was giving?

No… he knew it well enough that he couldn’t feign ignorance. It wasn’t only the gap in his schedule that chafed at Ferdinand’s absence. It wasn’t only the thrill of danger that pushed him to offer his blood, his body, to him.

Hubert looked up at Ferdinand’s waiting gaze and realized he had been quiet for too long.

“I… I don’t know what to say,” he responded honestly.

That pulled a genuine laugh from Ferdinand. “Hubert von Vestra, speechless! What a day!”

Still smiling, he took both of Hubert’s hands in his own. Only through his knowledge of the man in front of him could Hubert see the strain in Ferdinand’s expression.

“If it helps, a simple yes or no will suffice,” Ferdinand said.

Hubert paused, then chuckled to himself. As much as he could easily think circles around it, there truly was only one answer to that.

“Yes,” he said quietly.

Hubert briefly saw Ferdinand’s beaming face before he pulled him down into a kiss.

The movement of their mouths against each other started to escalate quickly, as could be expected, but there was something different about it, Ferdinand’s hands kept wandering over Hubert, grasping at his arms, his shoulders, his back. Hubert’s hands quickly found Ferdinand’s hair. They spent a while touching each other like that. Ferdinand rubbed himself against Hubert’s hip, clearly aroused but without any apparent need to go further right away. 

By the time Ferdinand pulled back, his lips were red and swollen from kissing. Hubert wasn’t sure he had ever seen something so attractive.

Then, Ferdinand smiled.

“Oh,” said Hubert.

“Oh?” echoed Ferdinand.

Hubert gestured to his mouth. “Your teeth…”

Ferdinand ran a cautious finger over his teeth, and found what Hubert had seen. Two of his teeth remained elongated at perilously sharp, like pearly daggers.

“Oh,” said Ferdinand.

“It seems that the transformation has not completely reversed,” Hubert added.

Ferdinand shrugged. “They should revert eventually.”

“Or,” said Hubert carefully, “you could simply take the rest of what you need from me.”

Ferdinand took in a breath, his eyes going half-lidded for a moment before he brightened again.

“You!” Ferdinand exclaimed. “You talk about my ‘perverse sensibilities,’ but you’re just as bad as I am!”

Hubert smirked, pulling Ferdinand closer. “You say that like it’s a travesty that we are sexually compatible.”

He ground their trapped cocks together to illustrate his point. Ferdinand groaned, gripping Hubert’s upper arms as if he was the only thing holding him up.

“I can’t bear that smug look!” Ferdinand cried. “Please, stick me with your cock and let me drink your blood like the degenerates we are.”

Hubert’s heart pounded. He wondered how else he could get Ferdinand to speak such filth.

“How could I possibly refuse?” he said.

Taking off their clothes was different as well. They got completely undressed, without rushing so much. Ferdinand grinned as he playfully pulled at Hubert’s ascot, and Hubert couldn’t help but smile in response. Once Hubert was naked, Ferdinand even took time to get on his knees and worship Hubert’s cock with his tongue until Hubert pulled him back up by his hair.

“We need to get you ready, do we not?” Hubert asked, his voice dark and fond.

“We do,” Ferdinand replied, shivering.

He got up from his knees and went to his bed. “The oil is in the end table, there.”

Once Hubert had fetched the bottle, Ferdinand had positioned himself on all fours and was looking back over his shoulder.

“Is this sufficient?” he asked, a glint in his eye.

Hubert walked up to the bed, running his hand over Ferdinand’s rear. Spontaneously, he drew his hand back and smacked him firmly. A soft noise caught in Ferdinand’s throat. Interesting.

“Quite sufficient,” Hubert said with a little smirk, and uncorked the bottle of oil.

As Hubert opened Ferdinand with his fingers, Ferdinand’s playful edge started to wear down, his grinning face growing slack with pleasure. Short, soft sounds escaped his mouth with each small thrust.

“Hubert, please, I’m ready,” he panted.

Hubert twisted his fingers, and Ferdinand let out a long moan.

“It seems you are,” he said lightly.

“Hubert—”

“Shh,” Hubert soothed, withdrawing from Ferdinand. “Turn over.”

Ferdinand turned onto his back, allowing Hubert to kneel between his legs. Hubert slicked his cock with oil, then carefully positioned himself at Ferdiand’s hole. Hubert grunted as Ferdinand engulfed him, and Ferdinand gasped. Hubert went slowly, waiting for the strain in Ferdinand’s face to ease before moving more. Ferdinand encircled him with both arms and legs, urging him on with the rocking of his hips. Obliging, Hubert increased his pace, and Ferdinand threw his head back.

“Oh, Goddess, yes,” he groaned.

Hubert panted as he continued to rock the both of them, feeling the heat coiling at the base of his spine. Ferdinand opened his mouth, those two shining canines gleaming in the little light of the room, and Hubert suddenly wanted to feel them as they pierced his skin.

“Bite me,” he rasped.

Ferdinand’s eyes widened. “What?”

Hubert tipped his head back a little. “ You wanted my blood. Take it,” Hubert said. “Bite me.”

Ferdinand stared at him, his eyes dark.

“Where?” he asked.

Hubert pointed to a spot just above his collar bone. “Here.”

He slowed as Ferdinand leaned forward carefully. At first, he just kissed to the spot, as if soothing it, but then Hubert felt the press of his teeth to the skin. Hubert let out a sound when they broke through, his hips stuttering. Ferdinand moaned into Hubert’s neck.

The glow was slower to hit him, but when it did, it hit like a wave, setting every nerve alight. He felt Ferdinand tremble as it overcame him as well, his nails digging into Hubert’s back. Hubert picked up his pace again, fucking Ferdinand in earnest. His breath was ragged in his throat, bright pain and heady pleasure blooming and blending let two drops of different colored ink.

“Oh, Ferdie,” he breathed.

Ferdinand didn’t speak, his mouth still attached to the wound he had made, but Hubert could hear the quickness of his breath, the little sounds pressed from him with each thrust. He clung to Hubert like he was his lifeline, scratching bright lines across his skin. The glow made everything bleed into each other, the different sensations becoming a confusing haze of pleasure.

Ferdinand suddenly pulled back with a gasp. “Hubert—”

That was all the warning Hubert got before Ferdinand came with a howl of ecstasy, painting white across his stomach. The clenching around his cock and the startled pleasure of causing such a strong reaction— stronger than he had ever seen from Ferdinand— was enough to push Hubert over the edge as well. He came with a shout, bowed over Ferdinand’s still shaking body, hardly aware of anything beyond the white flood of orgasm.

When Hubert opened his eyes again, not remembering when he had closed them, Ferdinand was looking up at him. He was beautiful, with his hair spread out around him and his cheeks still flushed. The smile that spread across his face when he saw Hubert looking was like the rising of the sun over the mountains. His teeth were flat.

“Welcome back, my dear,” he said.

Hubert bent down to kiss Ferdinand, simply because he wanted to. Ferdinand made a happy sound, smiling again when Hubert pulled back.

“As nice as this is, I’d like to get up so I can clean up a bit,” he said.

Hubert looked down at the seed spread across Ferdinand’s stomach, felt more of it trickling from Ferdinand’s hole.

“Ah,” he said.

In the end, he could do little more than roll off of Ferdinand and lay there while the man fetched a cloth and the wash basin. Ferdinand seemed to find it endearing. When he was done, he climbed back into the bed with Hubert and pulled the covers over them both.

“I have things I need to do,” Hubert protested weakly.

“I will let you go come supper,” Ferdinand said. “Right now, you ought to rest. A lot has transpired in the past hour.”

Hubert sighed. “I will have to adjust my schedule if future feedings are going to be so… involved.”

Ferdinand grinned at that. “I think we will have plenty of opportunities outside of feeding, now,” he said.

“Hm,” said Hubert, smiling back. “You may be right about that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Come yell with me about Ferdinand on twitter @3RatMoon1


End file.
